500 Times
by DarkYarns
Summary: Bumped up the rating. Definitely MA now for some content. Not for everyone. Should be finished soon.
1. Chapter 1

His suits layed on him like paint. Every inch of him, inky and sketched, but restrained. Eames swallowed hard when she heard is voice. She couldn't turn around. Couldn't meet his eyes...eyes that were now burning a torrent of deep amber, behind his steady gaze. His voice was low, calling over her shoulder, but he kept his familiar tone,

"Close it."

Eames wanted to, she felt her insides close the drawer, though out the outside she remained still....and dangerously quiet. Goren eyed her, any other man, would see her hardened exterior, years on the job drawn on her face and think she was distant, maybe even difficult..definitely not one to take any shit.

Eames grasped her hand more tightly on the handle of the drawer, licking her lips. She heard his voice again, this time....more firm.

"Close it."

She did, this time quickly, before she could talk herself out of it. She couldn't look at him. Eames kept her eyes on her hand, still holding the drawer handle.

He had caught her, going through his desk drawers. She hadn't expected him to come in on a Sunday, her heart rate doubled. How could she tell him, she didn't even know what she was looking for? That it was all innocent, really.

His voice even and cold, cut into her thoughts,

"What are you doing?"

His voice seemed to echo through the squadroom. Eames didn't know how to answer. Words caught in her throat.

Goren looked at the back of her, bent slightly, her hand on his drawer handle, frozen.

"Eames-"

"Bobby, I'm sorry!" the words leaped out her throat...tinged with desperation, then her hand released the handle..and felt empty. She couldn't bring herself to turn around, her eyes burning. She pushed the lump in her throat down.

He said nothing, his frame bending, trying to see her face, he took slow heavy steps towards her. Until he was standing...inches behind her. Eames felt her insides warm. He made no moves to touch her. She made none to face him.

Goren dropped his head. Then reached, with a swift movement, claiming Eames tiny wrist in his hand, his body still keeping the distance between them. He kept his eyes on the floor, holding his breath, leaning his neck to slowly close the distance between their bodies. He stopped when his lips met her hair, his fingers clinging tightly around her wrist.

"Don't do it again." his voice was just above a whisper.

Eames felt like all the skin on her body had tightened from the inside and Goren kept his grip on her wrist. He tried to gauge her response.

She nodded her head in understanding, a quick, barely perceptible nod, and he released her, her hands tingling as she regained feeling.

Neither of them slept well that night, knowing Monday was hours away.

He was at his desk, when she arrived. He didn't even look up from his reading. She sat her things down across from him. Quietly. She couldn't tell if he was upset. She fought to keep from staring at him until she knew for sure. She began flipping through some files on her desk, her eyes flashing up to him, every few seconds, hoping to catch his glance. Goren kept his head down. Then, softly, she cleared her throat, immediately regretting it, after she heard how it obviously sounded like an attempt to get his attention.

A quick smile passed his lips and then he cleared his throat as well, mimicking Eames. He lifted his head. His eyes dark from lack of sleep, met hers and then back to his reading.

Most of the day, they were apart. Trekking across New York on a frigid January day. Eames questioned witnesses in Queens and Goren took Uptown, they planned to meet later in the evening and compare notes, trying to come up with some fresh leads. They were looking for a drug dealer, who was suspected in the shooting of a young high school athlete and the case was drying up.

Eames felt her pocket buzz. Her phone was vibrating. She pulled it out. The screen flashed, GOREN. She picked it up.

"Yeah?" her cop exterior taking over. She had been working with Goren long enough to know when he felt he had come across something useful and when he didn't. Judging by his voice, he didn't.

"Where do you want to meet?" he asked.

"Uhh- to be honest- my place. It's freezing out here..." she watched her breath form clouds in the cold winter air, "we can just go over everything there, that okay?"

He said nothing for a moment, then. "Yeah." followed by another pause, his voice lowered, "I'll meet you there."

Something about it, made Eames hold her breath. He had hung up before she could even say anything else.

When she arrived he wasn't there. She entered her empty apartment and removed her coat and winter clothing. Stripping down to jeans and a simple gray long sleeved shirt that fit her closely. She filled the teapot her grandmother gave her with water and placed it on the stove. Winter always made her crave hot tea and the sound of this particular teapot brought back memories of being a young girl at her grandparent's house.

She opened the door to let him in... and for a moment, he hesitated. He was draped in a heavy black coat, a metal grey scarf around his neck and knit hat covering his dark tousled hair. Then he came inside, Eames felt like the ground beneath her had changed. His energy more intense than usual.

"Everything, okay?" she dared to ask. Her voice light.

His face was dark and burned by the cold. He shook his head no. His hand dug deeper into his coat pocket. Eames eye caught view of a small piece of white paper under his hand. He spoke, almost suddenly,

"I'm gonna use the restroom." his neck craned awkwardly towards the hall, in the direction of her restroom. He walked in the kitchen, passing her, removed his coat and the items in his pockets, setting everything on the counters. She saw the white paper, laying next to his wallet. He disappeared down the darkened hallway.

Eames went into the kitchen. Taking down two mugs for the tea. She wondered what was wrong with him. She wondered if it had anything to do with that piece of paper in his pocket. Her curiosity burned. She quickly assessed the situation. She hadn't heard him flush, she walked over to the counter, her eyes surveying his things. Scarf. Hat. Coat. Wallet. Keys. And now she could see more clearly...a small white envelope.

Goren looked at himself in her bathroom mirror. Taking deep breaths. He could still feel her tiny wrist in his palm from the day before. He clenched his hand...trying to push it away. He came into the bathroom to get himself together, he turned on the faucet. Splashed his face with cold water.

Eames let her finger delicately trace the envelope. She battled with herself and then decided. Bobby would never tell her what was going on....she had to find out for herself. She pulled the envelope with one finger across the kitchen counter, towards her, then she felt it. The counter reverberated beneath her touch. His hand slamming the envelope out of her reach. She jumped, startled for the moment. Then Goren growled in her ear, deeper than usual,

"This is the second time I've caught you going through my things."

Eames caught her heart in her throat. He was inches behind her again. His arm touching her side, pinning the envelope under his massive hands. Goren's voice lowered into a sensual hiss, "I thought I told you....not to do it again."

He moved, close enough to her now, his breath warmed her ear. Eames opened her mouth to speak, but the sound was strangled, by the sudden burning of her scalp. Goren pulled up a fistful of her hair and was holding her close, his lips on her forehead. He spoke into her hair,

"Put your hands on the counter."

He said it as a command. Eames felt turned inside out. Goren was more forceful now than anytime she had ever seen him. His body massive and tense. His long elegant hands wrapped in her hair. She could smell him. It was a smell she knew better than any other. The smell of a man she trusted more than any other. A smell that now made her muscles weak.

The blood in his body was rushing. He felt like thunder on the inside. She turned around, her back to him. Her movements were...hesitant. But Eames spread her small hands across the counter, planting her palms. Closing her eyes. She heard his breathing increase in her ear as he released her hair. Goren took a small step back. Giving himself enough space obtain a better view.

The air felt cold around her. Time passed excruciatingly slowly as she waited for one of them to speak. Move. Breathe.

Goren walked around her and took up the envelope. He held it delicately in his hand and then his dark, mysterious, eyes met hers.

"This what you want- Eames?" he tapped the edge of the envelope on the counter.

"Bobby-" she moved and lifted her hands off the counter. He barked immediately.

"DO NOT...take your hands off the counter."

Eames, almost in reflex, re-positioned her body into the almost identical stance she held before, her hands now sweating. The teapot began to hiss. Low. Eames realized she was out of herself. The sound was so distant and faint. She looked up at Goren. She felt like his stare removed all the bones from her body. Her inner self droning.

She watched his hands as the removed contents of the envelope. He unfolded the paper from inside and presented it to Eames, showing her both the front and back. It was blank. She felt dense. He removed a pen from the envelope as well. He placed both the pen and blank paper in front of her, between her hands...which she didn't dare move.

His neck twitched and he looked from Eames to the paper, to her hands, to Eames to the paper again. His words were like acid.

"Eames, " his neck twitching again, "Write on this paper, 500 times, "I will not touch Robert Goren's things without permission."

She heard it all in his voice.

And at first she didn't take want to him seriously, but then the look in his eyes let her know different. He was as serious as he had ever been in his life, if not more. His intensity from all these years, seeming to unfold, in this moment. She felt herself moisten, but couldn't explain it. She didn't dare move a muscle. Something was happening between her and Bobby...finally. This was...unconventional to say the least....but that was part of what kept her so drawn to him. He was unlike any other man she had ever encountered. She reminded herself to breathe. She was hit with a wave of indescribable emotions. Her eyes skimming the space before her rapidly. She looked down at the blank paper. Inhaling deep.

She looked down at the counter, the teapot now reaching its whistling heights, adding to the pressure of her decision, she spoke, her voice like a little girl,

"Can I take my hands off the counter?"

She couldn't meet his eyes. And suddenly, he couldn't meet hers. Without warning, he took up his coat, hat, scarf, wallet and keys and had them all on in moments. He took the teapot off the stove. The room now strikingly silent. Everything seemed sucked out with a vacuum. Eames tried to make sense of it all.

Goren looked at her now, his eyes looked like someone had punched him in the stomach. _Her hands were still on the counter._ He bit his lip and put his head down, afraid the sound wouldn't leave his throat.

"I'm sorry." his voice was weak and he turned and left.

She didn't try to stop him. She couldn't move even if she wanted to. So she remained in the kitchen, not taking her hands up until he was gone. Looking down at the blank paper and pen. Feeling her own moistness between her thighs.

For another night, neither one of them slept.

The next day, Goren wore his sleepless night like cologne. His eyes look beat, more stubble covered his strong jaw than usual. He hadn't even attempted to put on a tie and his white shirt was unbuttoned at the top and wrinkled. Eames made a better attempt to look decent, opting for a simple black blouse and skirt.

His eyes didn't meet hers when she arrived. No throat clearing was going to fix it this time.

She debated on whether to give it to him. Feeling it folded in her bra. She held her breath and reached inside, her hands shaking. _This_ caught his eye as her hand slowly traced its direction to inside her bra. His mouth felt dry. He tried to look as best he could while still keep his head down. She pulled it out.

_A letter_, he assumed. One he hoped that wasn't about the events that took place last night, or even better wasn't for him at all. But something about the way she pulled it out...he knew it was. She spent a lot of time thinking before writing and now after all the buildup was nervous to share what she wrote.

Eames unfolded it slowly, the paper trembling with her hands. She flattened it out, pressed into the top of her desk. Eames hand still debated on whether to give it to him. But then she saw his sleepless eyes watching her in anticipation, though his head was down. She passed it across her desk to Goren, never lifting it off the surface, until her hand was spread over the paper and sitting right underneath his face.

He couldn't look away now. He looked up at her, and her eyes were filled with an emotion he couldn't identify. She pulled her hand from the paper slowly. He looked down and saw it. Taking in air.

There it was.....500 times.

I will not touch Robert Goren's things without permission.

Since Eames had given it to him, he seemed non-responsive... non-existent would be an even better term. He had almost completely withdrew from her in every capacity. Every day he came to work, looking worse than the day before. Speaking less than the day before, spending more and more time working on the aspects of cases they could do separately.

It's not the first time he had ever disappeared into his own mental world. But this time was different. She could still feel his hand around her wrist. His breath in her ear. The tone in his voice, that let her know, this was coming from some place deeper. The tension in her hand as she wrote hundreds of lines...because he asked her to.

One morning, she awoke extra early, wanting to beat him to work. She did. Almost no one was in the squad room at this time of morning and the office was still cold, warming up from the reduced heat overnight. She sat in his chair. She smelled that smell again. She let her fingertips trace the outline of his desk. Then she heard the elevator and saw him coming, she immediately opened the files on his desk and starting going through his notes as she saw him approaching.

He didn't know how to respond. She was going through his things..._again_. Didn't she know this wasn't a game for him.

He walked up to the chair, behind her.

"Excuse me, Eames."

She tensed, waiting.

Wanting.

But nothing, he looked at her. His face blank. Nothing in his eyes.

She suddenly felt embarrassed. She swooped some air behind her ear and got up from his seat, unable to meet his eyes, making a beeline for the ladies room. Murmuring a light apology.

In the bathroom, she cursed herself. Feeling her eyes begin to sting. Realizing now how much she hated it when he withdrew from her, when he acted this way. He seemed to make himself impenetrable. She clenched her fists in frustration.

Goren sat at his desk his mind skimming why Eames would purposely make sure he saw her nosing through his things.

The first time was an accident.

The second time...he could never admit to anyone else, but he set her up. He knew this proved his curiosity was even stronger than hers, but he gave himself credit for being more clever about it. He made sure to let her see him touch the envelope and to fill it with a blank paper and pen. He wasn't sure about what would happen after that but he figured he would cross that bridge when he came to it. She only proved he knew her as well he thought he did. He suddenly felt bad. He was so much more calculating than her. He even made sure not to use or flush the toilet to ensure he would catch her.

But this third time, this morning, this is when she broke away from the Eames he was so sure he knew, why would she try to provoke him? The answer made his chest tight.

His mind returned to her 500 lines.

And he felt the urges, coming for him now, burning through his resolve. He tried to imagine how she looked writing it out, did she write it in her bed, or at her desk. He ran his hand roughly over his mouth, remembering how firmly she placed her palms into the counter, how patiently she waited for him to speak or move....letting time pass so slowly between them. The teapot.

She came out of the ladies room now, her face looking like it just dried fresh tears. She looked beautiful and suddenly shy. The hardened, quietly confident Eames he knew must have decided to stay in the bathroom. This woman before him seemed....vulnerable. He felt heat stirring within him. He wasn't used to her wearing her emotions so close to the surface. He couldn't take it.

"Eames-" he had her attention, though she didn't look up. "...I need to speak with you privately." He glanced nervously around the squad room.

She got up without speaking and walked into the closest empty office. He picked up some files and notebooks from his desk and followed behind her, closing the door with a quiet click.

His eyes were on her. Barely moving.

"What's up, Bobby?" her voice was low, and defeated.

She was beginning to feel angry with herself for letting this morning affect her so deeply and in being honest with herself, she still wasn't sure why it did. He moved slowly, twisting the blinds on the office windows shut. The room was dark, like just after sunset, but they could see eachother clearly.

Goren lowered his head.

"I thought you agreed not to touch my things without permission."

He pulled one of the manila folders and slammed it on the desk. Eames felt herself tense up.

"I thought I was very clear about this."

Another folder slammed on the desk next to it.

She felt her heart pumping like a rabbit. She fought to catch her breath. She leaned back against the wall to steady herself. His words.

"Yet-" his voice rose slightly, sounding terse, "this morning-" he pursed his lips, pulling his head to the side. He slammed one more folder on the desk. Three lined up.

He couldn't meet her eyes.

"Go stand in the corner, Eames."

She was taken back for a moment. She felt light-headed. She felt her feet moving and she leaned into the only empty corner in the room, her eyes still on Bobby who was looking at her now, like a fire was brewing inside him. His voice low and sharp,

"Turn around."

She did and was confronted with the huge crease where the two walls met. She leaned her forehead against the wall and exhaled slowly, that familiar moistness returning.

He said nothing to her for a few long moments and she absorbed their behavior. She knew by the way her heart was racing, she was excited. His hands planted on the walls above her head. She gasped lowly with pleasure.

He didn't move much. Their bodies almost still. She breathed into the wall. He breathed into the back of her neck. His breathing got more ragged, the longer they stood there. His eyes closed, neck rolling back, mouth opening slowly as he envisioned himself making love to her. His mind fabricating the sensation of entering her. He backed away from her. Leaving her weak, her face against the wall.

He sat at the desk. Eames knew not to turn around. She wondered what he was doing behind her. She heard him opening drawers and clicking pens, shuffling papers. She tried to catch her breath. He spoke, sitting at the desk, talking to the back of her head, still in the corner.

"One of these three folders has something in it for you."

He cocked his head.

"Which one do you want?"

Eames couldn't turn around to see them. She realized this must be the crux of the test. Similar to how she couldn't have possibly written I will not touch Robert Goren's things without permission 500 times without also taking her hands off the counter, there was no way she could know which folder actually had something in it, without seeing them, but then she would have to turn around. She scanned the wall for the right answer.


	2. Chapter 2

Goren exhaled.

He began to unwind. Home after a long day. Eames stayed on his mind. Blazed onto his thoughts like a mental tattoo. He could still feel the wheels in her mind turning, when she decided which folder to select. This is what excited him. How she tortured herself, racking her brain for the right answer. It was like he set a puzzle before her and got to watch her put it all together.

He relaxed into his couch. Now wearing a white undershirt and sweats.

His desire for her had been smoldering for years. Yet, it wasn't until that Sunday morning, when he caught her looking through his desk drawers, that anything came to the surface. Robert Goren stood as the model for self-control...sexual restraint. Only those who knew him very well could see his feelings for her...Frank....his mother.

But he was sure to grab her wrist that Sunday. His fingertips firmly on her pulse point. He knew. He knew when he felt her small wrist flutter in his hand at the sound of his words, _don't do it again._

Eames got into bed early. Refusing to succumb to another sleepless night. The folder she selected earlier in the day was empty. She had no idea what this meant, or if she would ever receive whatever it was he had for her.

She pulled the covers over her body, rubbing her thighs together under the sheets.

It was 4:17 am. Goren leaned against his bedroom wall. Cellphone in hand.

Eames heard her ringtone. Muffled under the sheets at the end of her bed. She didn't want to pick up. She opened one eye to look at the clock. 4 am? It could be an emergency. She whined silently to herself and flipped open her cell.

"Hello?" her voice groggy with sleep. She didn't even look to see who was calling. She heard Bobby's voice.

"Eames."

"Hello?"

"Eames."

"I'm here, hello?"

Goren swallowed hard. Steadying his hand by pushing it against his stomach.

'Will you do something for me?" his voice carried a late-night rasp. He waited on her to answer.

Eames went the safe route, "What do you need?"

He answered her quickly, "Yes or no?"

She held her breath, realizing she was now fully awake, "....yes."

Goren's fingers wrapped more tightly around the phone. He evened his breath. But his voice gave him away, laden with a dark sexual tension.

"Tomorrow. Wear a white blouse..." he exhaled slowly, "unbutton the top-three buttons...and a black skirt that stops...three and a half inches above your knee.." his voice so low and gruff it reminded her of phone sex. Her body responded in kind. She lay back into her bed, holding the phone as close to her ear as she could.

"...and black pantyhose-the-the sheer kind..." Goren bit his lip hard, refusing to stutter or seem off balance, sometimes his mind moved so quickly, his lips and body couldn't keep up. The end result was all his little ticks.

"...and black patent leather heels...w-with ankle straps." he finished. Adding sternly, "Okay?", waiting for her response.

"Ok." Quiet and sweet.

And before she could say anything else or change her mind. He hung up the phone. Leaning against his bedroom wall for strength.

When she arrived at work, his desk was empty. She smoothed her white shirt with her hands and casually looked around the squad room for his lanky frame. No signs of him. She settled into her desk, pushing away small feelings of disappointment.

Something had to explain where he was. She checked his desk for signs he had even been into the office. Then she saw it.

Another white envelope, peeking underneath some files on his desk. Eames fought with herself. She knew she wasn't supposed to go through his things. This he had made very very clear. But her detective side insisted. She decided if she were going to move, to do so quickly. Goren had a way of just materializing at the most inopportune moments.

She pulled the envelope out and brought it to her body. Looking quickly to her left and right. She opened it, a small piece of white paper was inside folded in half. In black ink, it read.

_Eames,_

_I'm at the library. If you are properly dressed....meet me there._

_Bobby_

She felt a flutter of excitement inside. Followed quickly by a wave of disappointment, leaving her bittersweet. He didn't say _which_ library. There were hundreds in the city and at least a few dozen she could envision him in, for one reason or another.

She sat still in her chair trying to determine her next move. The library downtown had private study rooms, she decided to start there and then work her way back uptown if need be.

When she approached the study rooms and saw Bobby inside the one farthest from the doors, she felt a wave of relief. At least she wouldn't be roaming libraries all day. He was reading intently, headphones in. She stopped just outside the glass, hoping to catch his eye, she didn't. She knew that look on him. Tunnel vision.

She opened the door and slid inside. Standing before him, his eyes now meeting hers. She heard his music blaring through his headphones. He slipped them off his head. She couldn't decide if he was pleased to see her or not. His face seemed unreadable. He ran his fingers roughly across his lips and then rubbed the back of his neck. She said nothing, standing before him in her white blouse, black skirt, stockings and pumps..with ankle straps.

"Eames...."

His voice seemed to hold every particle in the room captive.

"We have two problems here.... One, the only way you could have found me here....is if you were going through my things..."

Eames felt stunned, she couldn't believe she didn't think of it. She felt tricked and mildly embarrassed she let her excitement get the best of her. He voice was a mix of measured anger and lust.

"And two...that's not three and a half inches above the knee."

Eames opened her mouth to speak, but Bobby raised his hand to stop her.

"You don't believe me? I'll prove it to you." He flipped through his leather notebook, rustling through his papers and photographs, quickly removing something black, "I'll prove it to you, Eames."

He got up from his seat and walked around the table until he was a few inches in front of her.

"Bobby-" her words were cut off as the flesh on her thighs flashed with a stinging heat. Followed by a long slicing pressure. She looked down. Goren was holding a black ruler along her thigh, measuring the distance between the top of her knee and the bottom of her skirt. Two and three-quarters inches. He took a step back, eying her then started a slow prowl, circling her body with his long strides, she turned her neck, following him around her body over and over again. Saying nothing. He seemed to be making a mental assessment of her appearance.

Then he spoke to her, his voice low, fighting through his clenched jaw.

"I find it hard to believe....you can't follow simple instructions." A pause, "Are you stupid?"

Eames felt herself tighten on the inside. Was he trying to make her feel bad? She did all of this for him. She clenched her lips tight, now staring straight ahead. Goren leaned, crooked his neck and then launched forward, standing close enough to her, to invade her personal space....make her uncomfortable...but not to touch.

"Well, are you? Eames? Are you stupid?"

"No" her voice cold.

He took a long stride behind her, leaning forward, placing his head next to hers, bending his neck.

"Hm-" he took in the smell of her, feeling his insides heat, "then you're just...disobedient."

He was across the room in moments, closing the blinds over the study room window, that overlooked rows and rows of library books. He said to her, while is back was turned, drawing the blinds shut,

"Sit on the edge of the desk."

Eames obeyed, despite small feelings of reluctance. She didn't appreciate him implying she was stupid..yet...she could admit to herself it was foolish to show up based on information that required snooping, when she just wrote line after line about not touching his things. She sat on the cold desk, knees together.

Goren stepped in front of her, ruler still in hand. His eyes met hers. Power illuminated his. She felt like she could melt into a puddle on the top of the desk and slip into a pool on the floor at his feet.

He motioned the ruler over her knee, moving back and forth with a saw-like motion. Tortuously slow. Using the corner of the ruler to drag across her skin. Snagging her stockings. He slipped the ruler down her inner thigh, motioning now with the object as if he were penetrating her. Rocking slowly with continuous stroking. He tapped lightly on the insides of her thighs. Eencouraging her to spread her legs. She did.

Now he slipped the ruler just under her skirt. Holding it there. His eyes pulled her in as his gaze demanded steady eye contact. She felt, but didn't see, his hand pull roughly at her hip. Then her skirt was hiked up, he looked down at the ruler again. This time so did she. Three and a half inches. She felt a sting of pain as he slapped the ruler across her thighs.

"Eames-" his voice shaking lightly, face lightly flushed, "this is correct."

He slapped her thighs with the ruler again, "next time...." another swipe, "I say three and a half inches.." the next blow was the hardest, causing her to whimper now, her skin hot and tingling under the thin layer of nylon"..this is what I mean."

He exhaled slow, his eyes focused on the ruler in his hand. The red blush creeping to her thighs, through the veil of sheer black wrapped around them.


	3. Chapter 3

Eames slid into the bathtub. Her thighs sore, but eased by the warm water.

She closed her eyes...and saw his. In her mind. His intense gaze. His dark features. His broad shoulders and strong arms. Heard the snarl in his voice. She knew he tried to fight it. She assumed now, for years. He was a storm contained inside human flesh. A mind that operated on more levels than most people could even begin to comprehend. She knew him. She considered herself...close to him.

Goren sat in a dark bar around the corner from the station. Downing small glasses filled nearly half-way with straight bourbon. He wouldn't touch her again. He felt a small pang in his chest at this thought.

But it was her loyalty to him that drove it..the commands. He couldn't remember a time over the past few years that if something eventful happened in his life, Eames wasn't there. She was always there.

Quiet strength in her small frame. It was because she was both strong..and loyal. That's what made him push her, convinced she could take it. He pushed away the contradicting thoughts. That brief moment while spanking her thighs with the ruler, when he knew she would be the death of him. He forced the memory into blackness. It would only continue, only get worse...if he didn't stop himself.

Days passed between them and they returned to the Goren and Eames they had been for the years prior to. She didn't want to question him on this. And even if she did, she didn't know where to start. She felt rejected. Like he had lost interest in her.

Everything he spoke to her about was case-related. Nothing personal. Nothing extraneous.

A few times, when her eyes, did actually meet his. She would try to communicate with him telepathically. Focusing every atom in her body towards communicating messages to him. Sometimes she felt like he could hear her. Sometimes she wasn't even sure what she wanted from him.

But she felt it. Coursing through her. A current, gaining momentum every day. Building, every day that he ignored what he had created between them.

After a few weeks time, she felt like flames burned within. She had too much pride to try and provoke him into action, though the thought had crossed her mind. She felt like he was doing this on purpose. Withdrawing and now refusing to come back. He looked torn inside. Some days, he turned to her, like the words were in his mouth, but ended up saying nothing.

Goren held firm to his self-control. He knew without it he was nothing. If he couldn't control himself, he would never be able to control anything else around him. It all started...and ended with him. But some days, she brought him to the edge. He liked her hair, when she wore it straight, any shoes she wore with ankle straps, anything that revealed the taut muscles of her calves, or her delicate collarbones. Some days he bit his own tongue to distract his body from arousal. One day, he bit so hard, he realized he was bleeding in his own mouth.

But to his credit. He didn't break. Not one part of his body had met hers in weeks.

Eames felt her desires simmering. His dark eyes only adding more heat within her.

She pinned her skirt before work. Pushing small safety pins through her newly created hem. Pulling a ruler from the desk drawer in her home office. She measured. Then measured again to be sure. Three and a half inches.

She slid on the hose, heels with straps and white blouse. She unbuttoned three buttons. She left the house before anxiety to could kick in and force her to change clothes.

When she slipped into work, a few minutes late, she had his attention immediately. His eyes surveyed the area of skin visible above her knee. It looked like three and half inches to him. He held his breath and she sat down, his eyes rushed the blouse, three buttons undone.

He got up almost instantly and walked away, not saying a word. He stepped outside into the alley. The cold air rushing his face, cooling his body. He fought to even his breath. His mind a storm cloud of thoughts. He felt his control slipping away.

He came back into work, wanting to act as if nothing happened. But it was written all over his face. He looked like a man clinging to his composure. Eames eyes met his and she gave him a sheepish grin. He wasn't fooled, Eames was just as locked away as he was most of the time, she was just a less imposing presence and better able to camouflage the fact that almost nobody knew the real her. His eyes met her with something dark. He mentally counted her three undone buttons over and over again.

These are the times, when he wanted to stop. When she made him feel sick...or obssessed. How many times was he going to count the buttons? There was three. Three. He knew it, but he kept counting, just to be sure. And then when he felt sure, he counted again, just to be sure.

He opened his black leather notebook, not taking his eyes off her. Calming himself now, his hands steady as a surgeon, as he slid out a familiar black ruler. Three and a half inches. He had to be sure.

Eames saw the ruler and turned to look at Bobby across their desks. Her heart pounding. Her mind dizzy. Short of breath.

"Eames-" his voice cool, "can I speak with you privately?"

She got up now, a quickness to her step, weeks of anticipation inside of her. She felt unaware of her extremities as her core surged. She went into the same empty office and he followed behind.

After he closed the door behind them. His eyes landed on that area of skin again.

"How many inches between your knee and your skirt?" his voice quiet, his body sideways to hers, several steps away.

She stood near the desk and spoke, her voice sounding confident but husky, "Three and a half."

Goren approached her slowly and leaned the ruler against her leg. Three and a half inches. His chest tightened, he bit his tongue in his mouth again, this time holding it until the feeling between his thighs subsided. Finally, he felt comfortable that if he spoke, he would sound firm, "So it is."

Eames felt a small flutter of pride.

"So, Eames," his voice low as he moved and took the seat behind the desk. She stood on the opposite side of it. "You or me?"

She didn't know what he was asking her. He repeated himself, sounding matter-of-fact,

"You or me?"

She didn't know the right answer. Her mind worked overtime, trying not to take too long to come up with a response. Goren enjoyed it, feeling her intellect spike, seeing her eyes run quick horizontals as she processed as much as she could as quickly as she could.

"I'll tell you the answer Eames..because you don't know." The way he said, _you don't know_, cut her, he was patronizing, condescending, "and you know why you don't know?...." his voice lowered to a whisper, "because I haven't told you yet."

She stood frozen, not knowing what to make of his statements. She closed her eyes and steadied her internal self, now swimming.

"The correct answer is you...or in your case...me." Now he had thoroughly confused her, she felt like he was speaking in code.

He cut into her thoughts, his resolve unable to take any more games. He pushed the chair a few feet back from the desk.

"Come here."

She walked around to his side of the desk, her steps slow, until she was standing before him. He spread his legs and leaned back in the chair. Eames took in the sight of his huge frame, his strong thighs opened to her, his dark hair making short erratic waves atop his head. His voice began to hit her ears like honey.

"Sit on the desk."

She did and felt like he was speaking to her in such a way that he wanted only the two of them to hear. She saw Goren's hand slide into the desk drawer beneath her, he pulled out a pair of silver scissors with black handles. She felt her body tense up, not knowing what to expect.

"Pull up your skirt."

She grabbed lightly at the fabric, easing it over her hips, revealing the control top of her pantyhose and small blue underwear. She felt the blade of the scissors ease along the inside of her thigh. She closed her eyes, hearing his breathing change.

"Spread your legs."

She slid them apart, as far as she could. She felt exposed. He said nothing, and with a delicate pinch of his fingers he pulled at the pantyhose where they covered her mound, cutting a quick hole through both the sheers and her panties. Eames released a gasp as she felt the cold air, hit her moist folds. Her thighs began to tremble slightly. He placed the scissors down next to her on the top of the desk, next to the ruler, with a striking orderliness.

He leaned further back in his chair.

"Touch yourself...follow my directions."

Eames slid her hand slowly over her thigh, until it reached the area between her legs that now laid bare and on full view. His voice was now laden with arousal.

"Take your index finger and your middle finger and rub them counter-clockwise over your clit."

The sound of dirty words, leaving his lips, increased her heart rate. Eames began cycling her fingers over her pulsing clitoris. She realized she was wetter now than usual, she felt a soft moan coming, but stifled it, remembering they were in an empty office at work, not in the privacy of one of their homes. He watched her nearly silently, but when she undid one eye to peek at him, and she saw his arousal all over his face. His eyes glued to the spot in between her legs. She felt an extra push of lubrication meet her fingers.

"Faster."

She applied more pressure, moving her fingers so quickly over herself that she was making clapping sounds. They seemed extra loud in the nearly silent office. She felt her body tense, nearing the edge.

"Take your other hand, insert two fingers...curve your hand upwards."

His voice was gruff now, sweat glistening on his face, taking in the sight of her, hips writhing and bucking. Her womanly essence in full view, he could smell her fluids, as they soaked her hands and inside her thighs. Biting his tongue was no longer helping.

As Eames worked her fingers now with vigor, her breathing ragged, her moans pressed into her own mouth and she tried to quiet them. Her legs quivered. She collapsed back against the desk, laying on her back, now arching her hips to apply the pressure needed to reach her orgasm. She heard Bobby's voice over the sensations that claimed her. The most powerful orgasm she ever experienced, feeling seconds away.

"Contract your muscles from inside."

She did it as he told her to, and his timing was perfect. Eames felt herself crash over the edge, spewing liquid from her vagina muscles, spasming rapid fire around her own touch. She heard Bobby release a low moan over her own from his chair, as she felt copious amounts of fluid running down her legs and over the desk. Her body was convulsing. She rode it out, then catching her breath staring up at the ceiling. She hoped she didn't pee on herself. She bit her lip and tried to see if she smelled urine. She sat up, looking at Bobby, who looked at her with a burning force.

She sounded like a little girl again, "What was that?"

"Female ejaculation." he said, his voice now visibly shaking. He pulled off his necktie and tossed it to Eames. She caught it.

"Cover your eyes....no cheating." Something about him now was intense. She wrapped his necktie over her eyes and tied it from behind. She couldn't see a thing. She heard his voice, it didn't sound like he had moved.

"Lay back."

She laid back on the desk, small feelings of panic running through her, not being able to see, made her feel disconnected and out of control. She heard something slam on the table next to her head. She jumped startled, and felt the edges of Bobby's coat at her sides.

Goren looked down at her, blindfolded, laying in her own juices. He knew he would remember forever, the sound of her breathing as that orgasm claimed her, the rush of fluid as it shot out, blasting the desk, her stockings, fingers, and even the floor. He was done for.

He unzipped his pants, slowly, and Eames held her breath, bracing herself for penetration. Instead she heard his breathing. Bobby let his eyes invade the sight of her, seeing those three undone buttons again. He began to stroke himself. Quick and tender with his own touch. His body leaning over hers, supporting himself by his huge hand, planted on the desk next to her face. He was still determined not to touch her. But his climax was coming more quickly than hers. He roughly ran his hands, along the veins wrapping around his cock, gripping tightly on his head, stroking, applying more and more pressure. He felt his sack tighten, his throbbing grew into a raging heated pulse. He couldn't control the low breathless moans that now escaped his throat.

His hand moved up and down his length now rapidly. Though Eames couldn't see, she figured out what was going on. She could feel the edges of his suit jacket, moving to the same rhythm that he touched himself. The idea, set her body a flame. She writhed on the desk, wanting to touch him...and herself as well, but she knew she was still too sensitive, after such a powerful orgasm. His breath came out now like growls and she knew he was close...just a few more moments...any second. The sound of his fast strokes were suddenly punctuated by a few harsh grunts. She felt it, warm and startling, hitting her open folds. He ejaculated onto her, aiming for her sweet spot, but catching the desk, her skirt, and her thighs in the process. He wanted to collapse. He couldn't feel his legs. He thanked whatever forces gave him the strength to support his body above hers throughout.

Their bodies never touched.

But then she did it. Broke everything. All the distance he worked weeks to create. She rolled her pretty, blindfolded face to the side, facing his hand, planted on the table, and kissed his wrist. Her lips felt soft and warm on his skin. He stayed there for a moment, taking in this intimate gesture. Then removed his hand from the desk and straightened himself up. She heard him again,

"When I leave, uncover your eyes, and clean this up."

She heard the door shut as he left.


	4. Chapter 4

He could still feel her lips on his wrist. Dry and warm. Her hushed breathing.

He sat alone in his apartment. For the first time in a long time wishing he wasn't. He pushed his mind to think of some minor detail about their most recent case. A reason to call her. Goren looked at the time. Only ten PM.

He picked up his cell phone. Then set it back down. He eased back into his couch. Loosening his tie. Exhaling hard. He let his fingers drag along the silk, remembering the fabric was wound around her eyes, just hours before.

He could still feel her lips on his wrist.

Goren moved to his desk. Cutting on the small but extremely bright light. Going through the motions of reviewing case information.

He gave up. Tossing his ink pen on the desk, sitting back heavily in his leather desk chair, cursing under his breath. He reached into the lowest desk drawer, his hand slowly trailing the tops of the folders, until he found what he was looking for.

He pulled out a manila folder. The one he had intended for her to select, the first time he took her into that empty office. Inside was a picture of Eames he took, years ago. It was a candid. Goren felt it captured..._her_. If a picture is worth a thousand words than this image of Eames spoke volumes. She was smiling, her eyes sparkling, the light picking up the highlights in her darkly blond hair. She appeared small but sturdy. Sitting at her desk in major case. He never knew what she was laughing about that day, but he kept the picture with him, in that manila folder, in his leather notebook everyday since the years ago it had been taken.

Under it. He added the paper she had given him. 500 lines that he must have read 500 times since the day he received it. Analyzing her hard-pressed but fluid handwriting. Noticing how the neatness of her writing faded as she neared the end of the task. He re-read it again.

And then he saw it. On the back of the paper near the bottom of the page. All of the sentences should have been the same size and length. But this one seemed shorter somehow.

Goren rarely missed details. His lungs filled with more air than usual. He didn't know how he could have missed it, as many times as he had read this paper before. She made a mistake. She forgot the "not". One little line out of the 500 stated, I will touch Robert Goren's things without permission. He grit his teeth and smiled.

He could still feel her lips on his wrist.

Eames made herself a cup of tea and settled into the middle of her bed, wearing her winter pajamas. She could still hear Bobby's low but furious breathing as he brought himself to climax over top of her. She let the steam from her cup hit her face and nose and smiled. He was proving himself to be a bold and restrained, yet forceful lover.

Eames was no stranger to men who were rough around the edges, her father had been a city cop for years, and when he drank, could get rowdy around the house. She understood him better, now that she was a Detective. The job could be more than stressful.

Her phone buzzed on the bed next to her. GOREN. She felt a small flip of excitement.

"Hello?"

"Hey, are you busy?"

He sounded more casual and relaxed than usual.

"No, why?" she asked, slightly disappointed his voice didn't hold the same sexual intensity as his last late night call.

"Well, uh- I know it's kind of late, but did you want to meet up? I wanted to talk to you about something. Or I can come over there...are you home?"

She paused for a moment.

"Yeah, I just got into bed."

He gripped the phone more tightly. She finished,

"But you can stop by... I wasn't about to sleep...just relaxing."

"Okay. See you in a few." He hung up the phone quickly, before he could say anything stupid. Exhaling.

She saw him through the peephole, shifting his weight oddly in front of her door. She opened it slowly, peeping her head around the corner with a weak smile. Their eyes met. He felt softened by her. His voice low, but sweet.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself." She curled her lip playfully and let him in.

"Do you want some tea?" she asked.

"Sure." He said, stepping into her living room, removing his coat and scarf. Eames took in the sight of him. His thick shoulders under a thin black sweater, his long legs in jeans. She felt like she could hear his hard grunts from earlier buzzing in her ears again.

She handed him a steaming hot peach tea, her fingers brushing his as the mug exchanged between their hands. His eyes met hers again, filled with something softer, than she had seen in him in a long time. She decided, perhaps his release earlier in the day was good for him, he seemed settled. Peaceful.

She gave him a small smile. "I need to use the little girl's room." He nodded okay and she slipped down the hallway, towards the bathroom.

Goren took the few moments he was left unattended in Eames apartment, to take in the details of her home. She was clean. Her home had an obvious feminine touch. He decided she favored cremes, light floral prints, and vanilla scents.

She came back more quickly than he was expecting. Her pajamas hanging loosely over her tiny frame. She smoothed some of her hair back.

"So what did you want to talk about, Bobby?"

"Oh-uh...this." Goren dug into his jeans pocket, cocking his neck hard. He stepped towards Eames, standing in the hallway, walking around her and then craning over her shoulder. He unfolded the paper behind her back and then presented it to her, swooping his arm around her waist to put the paper into view. She held her breath. She recognized it immediately.

"Eames..." his voice low, he took another step closer to her, his body behind hers, just inches between them."...do you know what is wrong with this?"

Eames felt her insides lock tight. She didn't know what he meant or in which direction he was taking this. She decided silence was best. Goren wasn't going to accept it.

"Do you?" he asked again, this time his voice more demanding. She exhaled hard.

"Here." he pointed with his long finger to the line in question. His voice turning more sensuous. "... read this one here...out loud."

Eames voice escaped in a light hush.

"I will touch Robert Goren's things without permission."

She saw the error now and became aware of her pulse, even but quick. Goren's eyes darkened. He let his eyes fall to her small shoulders, her pajama top hanging over her shoulder blades. He spoke the words, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Take off your shirt."

Eames debated quickly, she wasn't wearing a bra. Her blinds and curtains were open. Her windows faced the street. She wasn't expecting to be seen...by her neighbors...or Bobby. His voice cut into her thoughts,

"Now."

She pulled the shirt over her head and let it drop to the floor. Goren made no moves to look at her front, her bare breasts exposed to the cool air. Goosebumps rose on her flesh.

Her back was revealed to him. Toned, lightly tanned, delicately shaped. The seam of her panties peeking over her pajama pants. He saw the small bumps rise across her skin.

"Are you cold?"

Eames nodded, turning her head slowly, trying to catch a glimpse of him behind her. His voice was harsh with desire.

"Don't move."

She stopped and closed her eyes. She sensed him behind her, then felt his warm breath on her skin as feigned opened mouth kisses across her back. Not allowing either one of them the pleasure of actually feeling his lips. He moved his mouth and head painfully slow, hovering his touch centimeters above the smooth skin of her back. Covering her in warm fluttering air. Goren closed his eyes, trying to steady his breath.

He could still feel her lips on his wrist.

Eames released a small cry of pleasure, feeling the trembling within her, spill to the outside. She wanted to feel him. She wanted to move. He spoke, voice brimming with arousal,

"Bend over and pull down your pants and panties."

She did, this time without thinking, and without care for her neighbors seeing her. Goren dropped to his knees behind her, trying to obtain a closer view. When she pulled the panties down, Goren watched how the flesh on her hips and butt, moved as the fabric slid down. He swallowed hard and continued his warm air assault. Breathing now on her thighs, hips, and ass, careful not to touch her and careful not to blow on her most sensitive area. Moving his mouth as if his lips could taste her skin....he almost could. He felt himself swell, seeing her inner thighs moist. Now, it was her voice cutting into his thoughts,

"Bobbyyy." a husky plea.

This was turning into torture. His own throbbing wasn't helping. He got up from his knees and walked down the hall towards her bedroom, she followed his lead, self-consciously covering her breasts with her hands, but stepping out of the pajama pants, leaving her clothes on the floor.

When they entered the room, she saw him finally. The look on his face....pure want. He made her feel so sexy. She dropped her hands covering her breasts and his eyes dropped to view her full, supple, breasts. He licked his lips.

"Bobby." Eames said again. He acted like he didn't hear her.

"Lay on the bed on your back." He went and stood on the wall opposite the foot of her bed, needing the distance to stop him from ripping into her in that instant. Eames obeyed, laying her head on her huge pillows. Goren frowned and and motioned his finger in a downwards circle, motioning for her to lay the opposite way, head at the food of the bed. She did and now she saw him, upside down in her view, walking towards her. He dropped to his knees again, at the end of the bed and they looked into each others faces upside down.

Then she felt them. His hands. Large and warm on her breasts. He couldn't wait another second. She closed her eyes instinctively and let out a moan from his touch. Amazed, something so simple could feel so good. She opened her eyes grateful to be able to see him now, and looked at him again, seeing that his eyes were closed, his mouth open slightly, his dark hair and eyes, even more striking in her dim bedroom. He let his hands and fingers trail up to her shoulders and then he surprised her. Pulling roughly on her collarbones, sliding her body along the bed. She cried out, one part startled, two parts sexual rush. He yanked her, until her head was dangling upside down off the foot of the bed.

Everything started moving so fast. She saw Bobby's trembling hands fumble with his zipper and and belt buckle, his entire body exuding heat. His placed his large hand on the side of her face, his palms warm and slick,

"Open your mouth."

Before she could even move her lips, his massive swollen head was pressed against her lips, begging for entry. His hand stroking his length, inches from her face. She loosened her jaw and allowed him in. He moaned, more loudly than either one of them was expecting, and slid his hand behind her head. Eames wanted to lift her neck, her head hanging upside down off the edge of the bed, was causing the blood to rush. Her face was turning pink. But Goren began a slow even pump into her mouth, letting his free hand massage her breast, running his fingernail around her nipple, his other hand supporting the back of her head as he stroked into her. Her warm tongue lapped gently on the underside of his member. His strokes increased, matching his breathing. Eames felt herself becoming dizzy, his size was reducing her air supply and the blood continued to rush, her face now a deep red. Then she felt him, push into her mouth, beyond what her gag reflex would allow. She coughed around him and attempted to turn her head to release him from her mouth. He pulled up some of her hair and kept her head steady, pumping now almost rapidly, beginning to groan unconciously. Eames felt hot tears leave her eyes, Bobby had lost all regard for the limitations of her throat, nearing the point of no return. He thrust with brute force, feeling Eames cough and gag around him, spit running across her now crimson cheeks and face. He lost it. Leaning his body over hers on the bed, his face now confronted with her thighs, the brief thought to sixty-nine her pushed away by his own thundering orgasm, seconds from the brink. He took his free hand, and gripped onto the soft skin of her thigh, muffling his moans now, by pressing his face into her inner thigh. He gave the back of her head one final push down to meet the deepest thrust he could and then snatched himself from her mouth, spewing hot semen across her face, neck, and hair as she coughed and sucked in air. He collapsed his forhead against her stomach. Taking in the afterglow, his breathing beginning to turn to normal. She really is going to be the death of me, he thought to himself.


	5. Chapter 5

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned."

It had been years since Bobby found himself within the confines of a confessional but he had been making himself sick with guilt. He could barely look in her the eye anymore. He enjoyed throat fucking, but hadn't done it, since his younger days with drunk and eager college girls. It wasn't something he was proud of, and something he rarely shared with anyone he considered a possible long term partner, but somehow it happened....with Eames. Though he was as gentle with her as the moment would allow, he still felt terrible, more because of her reaction than anything else, she didn't look him in the eye, she didn't respond when he apologized. Her silence killed him.

It sent him into a panic, bringing him to the church, where he sat, his ribs stinging underneath his dress shirt. The night he left her house, he was upset, and in an emotional place he hadn't been since his volatile teenage years. He knew what he had to do. He found a small blade in the top drawer in his bathroom and almost while in a daze, hands shaking and dragged the blade across his skin, feeling he deserved it...500 times.

500 little scars, littered his sides, some he cut deeper than others. The sting the blade left behind, made him tremble, and then the endorphins made him calm. This is what he has always done. When the pain, anger, hurt, rage built up inside. He cut himself. He would hold out as long as he could, and now he was older, he only acted on the feelings every few years, but he would slice his way to release. When he was younger, he cut more frequently, but not as deeply and left fewer scars. As an adult, when he did give in, desperate for the release, he didn't hold back. Bobby watched the blood cover his side and drip onto the floor. He had to get her out of his system. His mind echoed her moans, the sound of her choking as he slid down her throat. He felt himself getting semi-erect at the thoughts. He needed to get away from all of this.

"I hurt someone I love." Bobby spoke freely, his belief that the confessional was one place he could tell the truth, not corrupted by his job or the world. "I didn't want to. I didn't even want to touch her...but I-I can't control this."

"Did you ask for forgiveness?" The priest asked, his voice warm and without any judgment.

"I did....but I don't think she will." Goren pressed his lips together, "I just want to know why am I like this?... It just doesn't seem like the kind of question God gives out the answers for. But thats what I would really like to know."

Eames hated how things had changed between them. Since that night, he seemed like shame had run him away from her. But this time, she was tired of chasing him. Bobby had problems, he talked himself out of anything before he could even get close to it. It wasn't her job to convince him of anything.

He looked a mess though recently, and she was willing to admit to herself she was worried about him.

As they headed home for work that night, Eames spotted Bobby in the parking lot. She called out to him.

"Goren?" The way she phrased his name, part question part command, spoke volumes.

Bobby tensed up, walking towards her.

"Eames." His voice low and hungry.

She didn't know what she wanted to say really. She missed him. She didn't like this. They could at least be friends. She really wanted more. She really wanted it all. He was there, face to face, brown eyes simmering.

"Why are you like this?" She didn't know where it came from, the words leaped from inside her. She looked at him semi-surprised.

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. Tense. "I-I don't know. That's a good question. I was just asking myself that." Lowering his head, heat coming off him already. Burning. She made him this way. His intensity made her stomach flutter. He honestly, didn't know what they were talking about exactly, swept up in his arousal, eying her figure through her clothing. Eames wasn't all the way sure either, but she braved a direction, hoping for new territory with Bobby.

"Is it your mom?" She asked her voice quiet, but her eyes unwavering. He shook out of his lust, my mom? Does she think I'm crazy? Am I acting crazy? He searched her eyes to see if she appeared concerned, or afraid, or angry. He was unable to speak.

Eames furrowed her brow, Bobby immediately changed at the mention of his mother, he locks up.

Another emotion came over him. Irritation. Where does she get off? He took a small step back from her. The reality, that after all this time he believed she was the only one who understood him, she may not understand him at all, crushing his ability to interact with her.

Eames bit her lip, frustrated with his silence. "You're impossible." She walked away angrily, spinning back around on her heels to point in his face. Hurt. "_This_ is impossible."

Bobby was stunned. Did she really just mean it was impossible for them to ever be together? He swallowed it. Smiled like a gentleman and shrugged. "Fine." His voice cool. He turned around and walked to his car, determined not to look back over his shoulder. He was dizzy in the car, warm, unable to breathe. His mind was racing. Eames never said things just to say them. He felt it welling up. Once he got off on the exit near his house, he rolled the window down and puked, releasing everything he had been holding inside since she called his name, just minutes ago. It only lessened his anxiety a bit.

When he got home, he shakily found his blade, mad with himself for doing this again, so soon, but it was better than drugs he rationalized. He stood in front of the sink. He pulled up his shirt hastily, desperate, revealing a ribcage that looked liked it had taken a hard whipping he had cut himself so many times. He saw the turmoil of the recent weeks, written on his ribs like scripture. He knew he didn't need to add more. He knew he did need to feel the heat, the burn, the tender skin afterward. He looked in the mirror, his eyes darker than usual, wanting to cry, but seeking a more complete release. Why would she think I'm like my mother, he mauled the thoughts again and again. Ashamed and humiliated, she may feel he was mentally unstable, but then he looked at his ribs....

He couldn't even explain it to himself. Something was wrong with him. He knew it. He fought it. The blade twitched in his hand, he wanted it. He sat on the bathroom floor, leaning against the door, toying with the idea, of cutting his wrists, but knowing when he got deep into the pain, he could become unaware of how deep he was actually cutting. He also knew, his wrists would be harder to hide at work. He took a deep breath, slicing the blade against his ribs once more, opening old wounds, shaking from the burn. He took deep breaths to calm himself, and focused on the physical sensation of the pain, calming, feeling the blood expose to the air against his skin. He moaned lowly, punishing himself still for violating Eames, for not controlling himself, for giving into this part of himself, cutting himself to punish for cutting and cutting for not being strong enough to stop."

He felt himself getting dizzy, realizing he was bleeding more than the time before. He thought he heard Eames voice in the distance. He cut deeper to push the sound away. He heard it again. "Bobby. Bobby." He nearly stabbed himself now, groaning with pain when he realized, he really did hear her voice.

Eames was outside his apartment door, fed up with the games. They needed to lay it all out. She called through the door, "Bobby, open the door. I know you're in there. Your car is outside."

Goren quickly, wiped himself off with a washcloth and cleaned his wounds with water, usually he would finish with the burn of alcohol or iodine but Eames at the door, was making his heart pound. He cleaned the bathroom, grabbed a clean shirt and opened the door.

She paused when he finally opened the door. Something was wrong. His eyes looked dark, and he was twitching a bit. His hair was unusually tousled. He looked almost tormented. She felt a wave of concern come over her.

"Bobby." Her voice was like a warm embrace. She wanted to hold him, take him in her arms, but he seemed angry with her. Her eyes spotted the blood on his shirt, soaking through his side. She was concerned. Her eyes darted around the apartment. Fast.

"My scrabble board is in the top of your closet. I forgot it here, can you get it from the top of the closet? I can't reach." She smiled, pleased she could think so quickly.

"You followed me here for your scrabble board?" Bobby raised an eyebrow coolly and walked towards the hall closet, and reached up to get it. Pleased he was doing a fairly good job at seeming normal at the moment. He felt the air then her hand, expose to his sides and dropped his arms in a moment of panic. Too late. Eames saw his side, bloody and wounded. She stood next to him, eyes wide.

"Bobby! Oh my God! What happened?Are you okay?" She touched his face worried, talking fast.

He was tensing up, sensing her panic elevate all the levels in the room. He wanted her to shut up honestly, pretend she didn't see anything.

"I'm fine." he said calmly.

She stopped, flashing anger that he was closing up again, he was clearly not fine. Eames said nothing. Then. "No, you're not."

She moved towards him, wanting to comfort him. Her eyes soft.

"Let me be here for you." Her voice quiet. Moving closer.

"You're not strong enough." His voice cold.

She was taken back by his comment. She was strong. They both knew it. But Goren knew what lay inside him. His most hidden desires, desires at this point in his life, he only wished to fulfill with Alex, but knew he couldn't, yet seemed to always give in, a little more and then a little more, so he was torn, and his body was paying the price.

"I am." She said firmly, "Bobby, trust me."

"Do you trust me?" He snapped. "If I say you're too weak, then you are."

"But I'm not" Eames retorted.

"Prove it." Bobby said. Calm. The stern, restrained confidence, he possessed when she had him this way, returning.

"How?" she asked hesitantly.

Bobby dug in the closet for a moment and then pulled a solid black pole about 3 and a half inches long and looked at Eames with his dark eyes. Giving in.

"Hold out your arms in front of you." A command. She felt her insides flutter.

Eames did, shaking lightly, realizing something might be happening again, he was speaking in that voice that he used when it was just her and him. He placed the bar across her arms.

"Don't let this drop." He looked at her intensely. "I'll be right back."

He put on his coat and was out the door quickly, leaving Eames standing in his apartment, holding the bar across her wrists, having to keep her arms at at least ninety degrees to prevent it from hitting the floor. She wondered where he went, how long he would be gone. She wanted to put down the bar, and wait until she heard him return to pick it back up, but she knew Bobby was smart, he could be watching. She held her arms high, feeling her muscles starting to burn already. She had time with her thoughts. Why was he doing this? Even better question, why was she? She understood there was some sexual tones to these games, she felt it between her thighs, and if she could keep him engaged long enough, it sometimes led to sex. Nothing with Robert Goren is simple. She felt the heat in her shoulders and biceps growing. Eames started to think of something she could rest her arms on, that would still allow her to balance the bar across, and she was drawing blanks.

Her muscles were trembling, when she heard the door unlock and Bobby return. He walked up to her. A small smile on his face. "Maybe you are strong." He let himself get very close, smelling her hair, nudging her a bit, attempting to make her drop the bar. He spoke into her ear.

"Get on your knees."

He felt it again. The throbbing. He watched as she lowered to her knees careful not to drop the pole and looked up at Bobby. He seemed pleased. He eased down behind her, and began running his hands over her breasts, pinching her nipples, through her shirt, making her body buck and causing the pole to role over her wrists and hands almost dropping. Eames whimpered with pleasure at his touch. Let her mouth fall open when he breathed heavily in her ear. The intensity with which she prevented the pole from falling is what turned him on. He kissed her neck, lovingly and she relished the feeling, becoming flushed, less aware of her arms burning.

"Do your arms hurt?" He murmured against her cheek from behind.

"Yes." She said breathless.

He pulled her shirt open and massaged her breasts roughly, pulling her nipples hard, she whimpered. He let his long hands trail along the soft skin of her stomach, occasionally coming back up to flick her nipples and listen to her groan. He kissed her neck with passion, desperate to mark her. He heard his own shaky voice vibrate back from her skin.

"Follow the pain."Eames clenched her eyes shut and tried to immerse herself in the physical sensations in her body. Just as she felt she could take no more. She felt Bobby lift the pole from the front of her palms, she dropped her arms instantly, relief coursing through her like pleasure. He massaged her shoulders gently, still caressing her breasts. Tender.


End file.
